Out of Step
by rijane
Summary: Mick and Beth are so often out of step, but there's one place the two can come together.


Author's note: I needed to take a break from "See Me" to recharge my creative batteries on that one. This is what happened. A little fluff, angst and inferred lust. It takes place sometime between "12:04" and "Fleur de Lis"

Out of Step

Mick had been pretending to fill out billing forms for the last two hours and only ended up with three print outs. He'd swept over the Buzzwire Web site, he'd checked his e-mail and replied to every inquiry that came through. He'd even dusted the desk. When his iPhone rang and Beth's face appeared, he grabbed the phone.

"Beth?"

"Hi, Mick," she grunted. "I know it's really short notice, but I need your help this afternoon."

"What's wrong?" he swept the files back into the pile in his bottom drawer.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I got into a little bit of trouble at work and... I need your particular area of 'historical' expertise."

"Okay," Mick paused, waiting for more information. "And what area is that?"

Before Beth could reply, he heard a voice in the background.

"Can I help you ma'am?"

"Mick, I'll be there in, 20 minutes or less," Beth announced. "Bye."

The line went dead and Mick was left wondering exactly what Beth had gotten herself into.

True to her word and a scary commentary on her driving through mid-day L.A. traffic, Beth arrived at his penthouse in just under 20 minutes. He heard her charging down the hall, laden with bags.

He was at the door before her hand hit the buzzer.

"Beth, what's going on?" Mick took the first two bags from her.

A red rose in her cheeks as Beth moved to the nearby table and started unloading her purse.

"It's just ... embarrassing," she let her hair fall over her face as she pulled her iPod and speakers out. Then she let her story pour out, barely pausing for breath. "Buzz Wire got bought out. New media company, new higher ups. They sent over consultants and talked and they really liked my stories and said I had good hits, which was great. But the president, Dave – he's not really a fan. So when he cornered me at the meeting today --"

"Did he hurt you?" Mick tensed. Beth's heart was racing and the tension was pouring off her in waves.

"No, I did this all to myself," Beth pushed her hair back and met his eyes. "Have you ever been talking and all of a sudden found yourself telling the most outrageous lies? And since you started lying, you have to keep going?"

Mick gave her a quizzical look.

"I guess I'm the only pathological liar in the room," Beth melodramatically buried her head in her hands. "We started talking and I could tell he wasn't really into my work and then he wasn't into me. And he told Maureen about taking his wife out dancing at Springbrook Gardens and somehow I told him that I've been dancing."

"I've seen you dance," Mick still wasn't sure what the problem was.

"No, you've seen me clubbing and you've seen me spazz out listening to the radio. That is not dancing. At least, that is not the kind of dancing that happens at Springbrook, which I didn't know when I said what a great place I'd heard it was --"

"Beth..." Mick prompted. Beth squeezed her eyes shut.

"I guess I sort of told him that I knew how to swing dance. And that I was actually good at it. And that I would love to go dancing at Springbrook with him and his wife. Tonight." Beth opened one eye to peek at Mick's reaction. Which, much to her consternation, was amused.

"And how exactly do I fit into this wild escapade?"

"Oh, great and wise teacher, I need you to teach me to swing dance," she glanced at her watch. "In about six hours."

"You're awful optimistic, aren't you?" Mick put on a grave face. "What if I don't know how?"

"No, old man. You know this," Beth closed the space between them and grabbed the vampire's shoulders. "You have to know this. You have to."

Mick smiled and hip checked the couch, sending it sliding across the room.

"Lucky for you, USO girls like a GI who can dance."

Mick finished clearing the room in short order while Beth opened one of the many packages and pulled out a pair of plain black dancing shoes with chunky heels and good traction. She solemnly grabbed a huge bottle of water, then stood at attention.

"I didn't know what songs we'd need, so I put a bunch on my iPod," Beth called. Mick pulled a small remote control hidden in his bookshelf.

"I've got some music that will work," Mick flipped through a few CDs and slid a disc in. The instrumental music started up softly, just a steady beat. He could almost feel Beth's pulse try to move in time with the thudding bass. He slipped the control in his pocket.

"Put your hands in mine," Mick told her as he folded her fingers over his, then held her at arms length. Her warm hands in his cold ones made him want to pull her in. "Start with a simple step. It's heel to toe with your right foot, heel to toe with your left. And then a rock step -- fall back on the ball of your right, then forward onto your left."

Beth followed, watching Mick's feet intently as he took them through the song at half time. Her tongue darted out as she tried to keep in sync with him. Mick felt her heart kick up a notch.

"Now, get your hips swinging with the beat. Keep your back bent a little," he moved a hand to the small of her back, guiding her. He felt the echo of a shiver. "So you have more of a spring in your step."

They kept together until Beth's feet followed the steps without fail for a song.

"I'm going to pull you in, just keep your steps to the beat," with a solid grip, he pulled Beth close against his front and back out, repeating as the currents brought her scent to him and away. When he thought he couldn't stand it any more, he pulled her in tight, his hand moving to her waist as they bobbed in time to the music. He felt her warmth against him, a fine sheen of sweat already building.

"I'm going to release you. Let yourself spin out and come back in to me."

Beth followed his instructions. As she whirled back in, her hair flying, Mick caught her opposite hand again, across her chest. He wrapped his arm above her, pulling the spin in with her back flat across his front, his arms encircling her.

He lost the music in Beth's warm presence against him. Her smell, rich with exhilaration and exertion, came at him.

"Feel the rhythm," Mick reminded himself and Beth as he bent down to get a good whiff of her hair. She leaned back against him. "Step back in time with me, then forward again."

He lifted her arms up above her head, spinning Beth around to face him. She lost her steps but found his eyes. The two bobbed together, the distance between them gone. Beth's head fell to the curve of Mick's neck.

He should move. He knew he should move. But the rhythm of her heart had him. The warm, tight feel of her hands in his. Beth's heart racing and not just from the dance.

The song ended and the opening strains of "I'll Be Seeing You" filled the room. Mick's hands fell to Beth's waist, pulling her tighter and her arms wrapped him. Mick found himself bargaining.

He'd stay for five breaths. He'd stay until the end of the first verse. Until she looked at him. Until she stopped smelling so good. Until ... until never, he admitted.

Beth moved her head and Mick knew the moment was over.

Until she met his gaze and slowly, methodically moved her lips toward him.

_I'll be seeing you_

Her lips pushed at his with hungry desperation.

_In the morning sun_

Aching for her, Mick moved from her face to her jawline.

_And when the night is new_

Beth grabbed him and moved him back to her lips with a firm gesture.

_I'll be looking at the moon,_

Mick's eyes flashed with his need for her when she buried her tongue in his mouth, licking all the most sensitive places. He wanted to crawl inside her warmth, but settled for pulling her up off the ground, her weight in his arms, her body tight against him. It was all mouths, heat, a hint of fang.

_But I'll be seeing you._

The last line trailed off, the music fading, but their passion didn't. Mick sighed against her lips and put Beth's feet back on the floor. She resisted, but he broke off the kiss, moving to graze his lips across her knuckles.

"I'll ... be right back," Mick trotted up the steps to the bathroom. A splash of freezing water against his face and a few moments to himself and he was ready to hold her again. Actually, he was still ready to jump her right on the impromptu dance floor, but he could postpone the need.

Downstairs, Beth was chugging water and had reapplied her lipstick. She didn't acknowledge their slip.

"What are we listening to?" Beth questioned. The CD had moved on to brazen version of "Delilah," with a beat too fast for slow dancing. She fell back into Mick's arms. "It's good, but I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"Actually, it's me," Mick leaned into her ear as her spun her.

"What?" the normally graceful Beth wobbled.

"You're listening to the St. John Quartet. And sometimes trio. And every once in a while quintet. Musicians aren't exactly a stable crowd."

"Mick St. John, you always manage to surprise," Beth grinned. "How'd you get a record deal?"

"Anyone who can scrape together a couple hundred bucks can book studio time. We pressed a couple hundred records."

"What did you play? Where did you play? Do you still play?" the questions tumbled.

"Guitar. Lots of places. Yes. You're out of step," Mick teased. The blue eyes strayed from him and to her feet.

"'I'm learning more than just dance steps today," Beth sighed as she let him work her through the steps again.

A few hours later, the two had a routine down – steps, pivot turns, lifts, loop turns. Mick was a good teacher and a better partner. For the first time, Beth could glimpse what he'd been like before Coraline. The easy smile, the music driving him, his hands easy on a woman's skin. And she wanted to see more.

"Pick me up at my place at eight?" Beth questioned, quickly deciding that Mick's Benz outranked her Prius. He nodded while pulling the furniture back into place.

The convertible top was pulled up at Beth's direction since an hour of styling and Aquanet couldn't hold up to convertible winds. Mick parked in front and was rapping on the door. Her muffled voice told him the door was unlocked.

"What if I was a vicious killer?" he asked toward the bedroom.

"Then I know this really great vampire P.I. who could solve my murder and avenge my death," she answered, emerging from the bedroom. His smart ass remark disappeared.

Her blond hair was carefully styled into pin curls, her lips painted a vivid red that he'd love to see stained on his. A chic black number with a tight waist, a flared skirt a generous view of her cleavage and straps leaving her shoulders bare. She was pulling on little white gloves that reminded him of Easter services.

"You clean up nice, St. John," she announced, looking over his own tux, one he hadn't worn in decades, paired with a long narrow tie, suspenders and black and black and white wing tips. It was a Mick he hadn't been in a while.

"You're gorgeous," he took her arm as she blushed.

"Thank you," Beth grabbed a beaded clutch purse and locked the door.

They raced to the car, Mick forcing himself to keep her pace. She chattered the whole way, popping questions about moves and steps. What songs he could play (plenty), what songs he'd learned lately (not as many), would he play for her (maybe). They settled into comfortable silence until the hall came into sight, bright lights and pounding music reminding him of times long past. The music was the same, though most of the faces were older, more worn.

As he opened the door for her, he caught sight of their reflection in the mirrored doors of the club. Just a guy and his girl, out for a dance.

Another life flew before his eyes, seeing Beth where Coraline had been the night of the infamous party. Her light instead of Coraline's dark, trailing sparks behind her. A real Louis Lane and her own Superman. Love, laughter, children.

And then it was gone. But Beth was not.

"Let's dance," he said.


End file.
